


Mama Warned Me There'd Be Days Like These

by hazel_3017



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Adoption, Baby Pens, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, POV Multiple, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_3017/pseuds/hazel_3017
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re ice warriors; brothers in arms.</p><p>What happens to one of them happens to all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mama Warned Me There'd Be Days Like These

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snickfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/gifts).



> For Snickfic! I know you originally asked for mpreg, but I hope this is okay. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. If you found this by Googling yourself or someone you know, please turn back now.

“We think Kirsten is pregnant,” Pooh tells them. He's holding his girlfriend’s hand tight, both of them looking panicked and scared.

Scotty promptly chokes on his food, and next to him, Muzz slaps him on the back helpfully.

“We should find out for sure. No use panicking before you need to,” Muzz says. He seems perfectly calm. Scotty wonders if he's as freaked out as Pooh and Kirsten look, as Scotty feels. He can never tell with Muzz. His poker face has always been inscrutable.

“I’ll drive,” Scotty offers, once he’s gotten his breath back. “We can go to Greensburg. Fewer people will know us there.” Fewer people to see them buy the pregnancy tests they apparently need. Because Pooh and Kirsten might be having a baby. Shit. Scotty is so not equipped to deal with this.

The drive over is tense. Pooh and Kirsten are quiet in the backseat of Scotty's Honda, and Muzz is half asleep in the passenger seat. 

Scotty rolls his eyes at him; the fucker can sleep anytime, anywhere. 

They end up at the local Giant Eagle, the four of them standing before a wide selection of pregnancy tests, just staring. 

“We should probably grab a few?” Pooh says hesitantly, his words lilting just enough to make it a question. 

“I don’t—I’ve never—” Kirsten looks on the verge of crying. “I’ve never done this before,” she whispers, and when he turns his head to look at them, Scotty can see Pooh reaching for her hand. “I don’t know what brand I should use.” 

“We’ll grab a couple of each brand. That should cover it,” Muzz says, which seems reasonable enough, and Scotty watches as Pooh gently lets go of Kirsten's hand before he stoically starts grabbing boxes off the shelf. 

Since they’re already there—and Shearsy sends them a text asking where the hell they are and can they please grab some toilet paper—they end up getting a bunch of other stuff as well. Including a couple of six packs that Scotty picks out; he could do with a beer right now. 

Scotty somehow ends up being the one to pay for all their stuff. He tries not to blush when he places ten boxes of pregnancy tests on the conveyor belt, behind the beer and chips—as if that will make the fact that they’re buying _ten boxes of pregnancy tests_ less noticeable—and waits for the woman behind the cash register to scan their purchase. Next to him, Pooh is beet red, and Kirsten is shifting on her feet impatiently. 

Muzz look as unflappable as ever. Seriously. The bastard. 

The woman eyes them sceptically, but mercifully doesn’t say anything beyond their total and a quiet goodbye when Scotty thanks her and offers her an equally quiet goodnight—his Canadian manners at play. 

They put on some music on the way back to Pittsburgh, and that makes it less awkward, but they’re all still pretty tense. A little scared, maybe. Scotty keeps getting caught up in the fact that there might be a baby. He's already in his twenties and he can barely take care of himself. He can't imagine the responsibility of raising a child. Can't imagine Pooh having to do it.

“It’ll be fine,” Scotty says after a while. He has to say something, can't stand the silence. He looks in the rearview mirror, meeting Pooh’s guarded eyes. Kirsten is cuddled up against his side. “Whatever happens. We’ll work it out, eh? We’ll help. You won’t be alone.” Scotty honestly has no idea what raising a baby is even like, but he reckons between all of them they'll figure something out. They'll be okay, probably.

Muzz nods in agreement. He turns in his seat to look back at Kirsten and Pooh. “Are we telling the others?” 

“I—” Kirsten clears her throat, looking at Pooh uncertainly. 

Pooh shakes his head. “Not until we know for sure,” he says, and he sounds more certain of himself than he has since he announced they might be expecting. More like his usual, cocky self. Scotty just barely holds back a sigh of relief. 

“Ok,” Muzz says. 

Scotty smiles encouragingly. “It’s your decision. A hundred per cent.” 

Pooh nods at them gratefully, and next to him Kirsten manages to dredge up a smile. 

Scotty winks when he catches their eyes in the rearview mirror again. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” 

Scotty doesn't know that, but it’s all he has to offer. 

** 

Derrick met Kirsten in Wilkes-Barre. She’s a native, pretty as fuck, and know just enough about hockey to know she doesn’t like it. She has four cousins who play hockey, she says. And they’re all jerks. 

She likes Derrick though, and that’s all that matters, all he cares about.   

She’s young, just turned eighteen, and Derrick is only a couple of years older.

It’s his first year with the baby Pens, and he keeps meeting Kirsten at parties, keeps getting lost in her pretty blue eyes. It even turns out they have mutual friends, and eventually, they start hanging out just the two of them, getting to know each other as friends first and then more, eventually. Kirsten takes it upon herself to show him around—help him get settled in, she tells him with a wink—and for a while, Derrick’s life is pretty good, everything right on track. 

Looking back, he wants to say he doesn’t know where it all went wrong. But. 

That’s not true. 

He knows exactly; it’d been a year into their relationship, remembers the way he’d hugged Kirsten to him after a night out celebrating and said, “Come on, baby, I’ll pull out,” because they’d been out of condoms but Derrick had been stupid and drunk and horny, high on scoring a goal that night—an _NHL_ goal—and there had been beer that seemed to never end, and Kirsten had been in town for a visit, and Derrick wishes she had said no. He wishes she’d told him to fuck off. 

Instead she’d said, “Promise?” and Derrick, like a fool, said, “Yes.” 

(He’d lied.) 

** 

“You’re doing it wrong, Uncle Sid.”

Sidney holds back his laugh and nods solemnly. “I’m sorry, little one. Why don’t you show me again?” 

He shifts on his knees as Alex squares out in front of him, looking very serious behind his goalie mask. “Okay, Daddy, I’m ready,” he says, and Sid and Tanger share a smile. 

“Here I go.” 

Tanger takes a weak shot, aiming at Alex’s blocker side, and Alex promptly sheds all of his careful posturing, throwing himself at the ball. He cries out in triumph when he manages to stop the ball before it trickles past him and into the net. He turns to look at Sid, his baby-blues huge in his tiny face. 

“Now you, Uncle Sid,” he says, and graciously shuffles out of the net to let Sid take up the goalie position. 

Sid doesn’t even get a chance to position himself properly before Tanger is smirking at him and whacking a hard shot at Sid’s middle. No mercy there. 

Sidney hisses at the sting and glares at Tanger. “Fucker,” he murmurs under his breath, slipping into English just in case Alex overhears. 

Off to the side, Alex is shaking his head sadly at them both. “Need more practice,” he declares with the air of one who is one hundred per cent sure of his conviction, and Tanger’s snickering abruptly cuts off. He’s never taken criticism well, especially not from his little boy, not even at play-pretend. 

“Hey!” he protests, outraged. He abandons his stick and snatches Alex into his arms, gently plucking his helmet off his head before he lets his fingers trail along his sides, tickling him until Alex is squealing with laughter and begging for Catherine to come rescue him. 

Sidney sits back and watches them, smiling wistfully when Catherine walks into the room to investigate the noise. She bends to press a kiss against Tanger’s hair before she untangles Alex from his grip, tutting over his disheveled hair and saying they need to clean up, it’s time for dinner. 

Sidney watches Tanger watch them, his little family of three, and breathes against the sharp familiar pain of longing. There’s so much love in his eyes, always a ready smile for his wife and son, and Sidney wants that so bad. More than anything, he wants a family of his own. 

To not be so alone anymore. 

“Are you staying for dinner, Sid?” Catherine asks him, and Tanger looks at him expectantly, face falling slightly when Sidney shakes his head no. 

“Nope, not tonight. Geno’s cooking; he’s trying out one of his mom’s recipes. I’m his test subject.” He offers Catherine a smile; it morphs into a grin when Alex sneakily sticks out his tongue at him. 

Sid blows raspberries at him in return, laughing when Alex bursts into giggles. 

“Sure you won’t stay?” Tanger asks when Catherine has ushered a still-giggling Alex out of the room. “We’d love to have you. You’re always welcome here, you know.” There is something in his voice, something heavy and pointed. Maybe even a little resigned. 

Sidney finds he has to look away from him. “Yeah, I already promised Geno; you know how he gets. Thanks, though.” 

Tanger hums. He looks at Sidney for a long moment, mouth opening a few times, as if he has something to say. 

“Tanger?” Sid prompts, but Tanger shakes his head. He puts his hand on Sidney’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad you came over today. Alex had fun. Me too.” 

“Well, we both know Flower is taking his trade secrets to the grave; it was me or you, and I’m the better goalie,” Sid chirps, flashing a grin at Tanger to show he’s only teasing. He’s had fun too, trying to teach Alex how to block shots and how to square up somewhat properly. Sidney is no Flower, but he is leagues better than Tanger, at least. Apparently, Alex had agreed; he hadn’t trusted his daddy to teach him how. 

Tanger snorts. “Come back next week? He probably wants to be a forward then. Man, I can never keep up with him.” He’s rolling his eyes, as if he isn’t loving every second of fatherhood, and Sid feels that familiar sting again. 

“I’d like that,” Sidney says. He lets Tanger pull him into a patented bro-hug, grunting when he claps him hard on the back. 

“Say hi to Geno for me.” 

Sidney nods as they pull back. He reaches out to ruffle Tanger’s hair just to mess with him and chuckles when Tanger immediately brushes his hand away. Tanger hates anyone touching his precious hair. “I will. See you at the rink tomorrow, eh?” 

Tanger nods and follows him to the door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Sid step into his shoes. “You sure you don’t want to stay, though?” he asks one more time, and when Sidney glances up at him, he’s got that look on his face again, half hopeful and half resigned. Conflicted, even.  

Sidney feels himself frown, a little confused by Tanger's strange behaviour. “Yeah. I already told you. I’m having dinner with Geno.” 

“Are you—” 

Tanger is cut off by the sound of Sid’s phone ringing. He sighs and offers a tight smile when Sidney looks at him apologetically. 

“It’s Shears,” Sid says after checking his phone. “I should probably take this. Sorry.” He’s already answering the call, on his way out the door and waving at Tanger behind him. 

As he gets into his car, he looks up. Tanger is still standing by the door, brows furrowed in what looks like concern, and Sidney should probably ask about that, but Shearsy is freaking out on the line and he’s already distracted, already forgetting about Tanger’s silent resignation as he activates the bluetooth in his car. 

“Yeah, I’m still here. Calm down, start from the beginning…” 

** 

Conor first finds out on the group chat. The second one. The one Rusty titled r00s when he’d first created it and on which there have been many freak outs, breakdowns, and an abundance of all caps because somehow they are all in the NHL now and lowercase text just isn’t sufficient enough to appropriately describe how unbelievably awesome that is. 

They are all part of the team group chat too, of course, and Sid does his best to make sure guys don’t separate too much into cliques and alienate each other, but some guys are closer than others; that’s just how it is, will always be. Even necessary, sometimes. 

It’s not like the others don’t know about their second group chat, or that there’s not other chats Conor is not part of—Sid alone has separate chats for the D-men, forwards, goalies, the French-Canadians, baby Penguins (of which Conor is a member), alternates, coaching staff, and Geno. Conor supposes that last one is just a regular thread between two people, but he’s seen the amount of correspondence between them, the way it sometimes makes Tanger and even Flower frown disapprovingly, and feels the ‘Geno’ chat deserves special mention.   

It’s all organised with frightening efficiency that is, honestly, a bit intimidating. Much like Sid himself. 

Which is probably why when Pooh posts to the r00s chat that his girlfriend is pregnant and he doesn’t know what to do, Conor is first stupefied—also hurt that Scotty and Muzz seemed to know about it already—and then decides they need to tell someone, that someone being Sid, specifically. 

Sid will know what to do. He always does. 

He’ll know what to do beyond texting, “It’s gonna be ok pooh we’ll help. whatevr u need.” 

“what if the team trades me. what if they send me back to WBS. what if I never get to play again?”

“They won’t!” 

“i dont think they could” 

“Come on, this is the Pens we’re talking about. They’ll have your back like we do.” 

The last message is from Junior, and while Conor is inclined to agree, he thinks Pooh is too rattled to fully believe that—he's just been called back up after he was sent down unexpectedly earlier that month; Conor knows he is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be sent down again. 

Scotty and Muzz add their own assurances, and Rusty too, but two hours later, they’re just going around in circles. 

Pooh may call it tattling, but Conor knows they need help. 

It’s been hours of them going back and forth, essentially losing their collective shit on the chat and becoming increasingly freaked out. 

Conor reckons they’re in some serious need of adult supervision. 

They may all be in their early twenties, but that doesn’t matter much. They’re all so very clueless about this. 

He calls Sid. 

** 

In the end, they never got around to using all of the ten tests they bought. It had seemed pretty conclusive after the first five. 

Derrick had hoped—just for a second, just before the first test said pregnant—that maybe it was just a dream, just a mistake. Kirsten would get her period and they would laugh about this later, about the pregnancy scare they once had. 

That had been a week ago, and neither of them are laughing now.     

Kirsten is nineteen. That’s not underage, thank fuck, but still not ideal. She’s still so very young. 

They both are. 

“I don’t know what to do, Der. My parents, they—” She’s crying. Huge, hulking sobs that have her tiny frame shaking in his arms. 

He’s never seen her this upset, and he’s not sure what to do about it. 

“They cut me off, Der. What am I supposed to do?” 

Derrick doesn’t know. He’s never been in this situation before. Never thought he would be. Not until he’d played in the NHL for a few years, and was married with a house and the dog and the white-picket fence. 

This isn’t supposed to happen now. 

“I don’t know, babe,” he says. He strokes his hand over her back, feels awkward and unprepared. Young. “What do you wanna do? You wanna keep it? What?” He tries to keep his voice as flat as possible, to not give anything away, but it catches on ‘wanna keep it’. He sucks in a huge breath. “Do you want to have an abortion?” 

Kirsten pulls away from him. Her hands are folded over her stomach. 

Derrick wonders if she’s aware. 

“Do you want me to have an abortion?” Her face is a mess of tear tracks and smeared mascara; she’s flushed red, snot running. Derrick cares about her a lot, loves her even, but he’s not sure they’re in love. He’s not sure he wants to do the ‘right thing’ and marry her and raise a kid and be a family man. God, he’s only twenty-one. 

He’s not ready for this. He's not ready for a baby. Fuck.

“I want to do what you want,” he says, because that’s easier even if it might be a lie. It makes him a coward but not a jerk; he doesn’t know if one is better than the other in this situation. 

“No, you don’t,” Kirsten accuses, but she doesn’t force him to say what he really wants. She falls against his chest, exhausted, her shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs. Derrick holds her. There’s nothing else to do. 

“I don’t want an abortion,” she says eventually, and Derrick stiffens, sees the life he could have flash before his eyes. “But I’m not sure I want to keep the baby either. I—I just don’t know. I don't know what I want.” 

And that’s the problem, because Derrick is either a coward or a jerk. Or maybe both. 

Either way, it’s Kirsten’s choice. He knows that much. 

He’s man enough for that. 

** 

"Tanger was being weird today," Sidney says when he walks into Geno’s kitchen, and watches as Geno stills for just a second, a muscle twitching in his jaw. 

"Tanger is always weird," Geno says uncharitably, and adds a few choice words under his breath in Russian.

Sidney tilts his head to the side, staring at him. He gets the distinct feeling he's missing something here.

He should probably pursue that, but he's got more important things on his mind. “Kirsten is pregnant,” he announces. He walks over to where Geno is tending to the chicken searing in a pan in front of him. Sidney leans in close to take a whiff, grinning when Geno pushes him away firmly.

“Who?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Sid. 

“Kirsten,” Sid repeats as he jumps onto the counter next to the stove. He ignores the disapproving moue of Geno’s mouth when he starts swinging his legs back and forth. “Pooh’s girlfriend. She’s pregnant.” Sid lets his head fall back against the cabinet with a gentle thud. He feels exhausted. “Shearsy called on my way over here.” He sighs, can already feel the beginnings of a headache build at his temples. “Her parents kicked her out.” 

Geno tuts. He’s silent for a long while as he tends to their food, concentrating on seasoning just so. It smells delicious. Sid’s glad he chose to come over tonight. 

“She’s young?” 

“Nineteen,” Sid confirms. “They don’t know what they want to do, apparently.” 

Geno glances at him, eyes shrewd. “You’re disappointed,” he says, because there isn’t much Sid can hide from him even when he bothers to try. The side-effect of having been best friends for so long, he supposes. 

“Yeah,” Sid says. He is, and maybe he has no right to be. Derrick is not his son or his brother, but he is his teammate and his friend, and he is so very young, in age and spirit. Not to mention this is the last thing they need with the season already spinning away from them. It’s only December, but there is already so much talk surrounding the team, so much white noise. 

They don’t need any more bad press. 

And this is, Sid realises, even as he feels horrible for thinking that. It’s a story, a salacious one. The young hockey player who knocked up a nineteen-year-old. A  _homeless_ nineteen-year-old at that. 

God forbid Rossi ever finds out. 

“What do I do here?” 

“Not your responsibility,” Geno says. He reaches out to place his broad hand over Sid’s knee, squeezing gently. “Don't have to do anything.” 

And maybe that is true in a technical sense, but they both know Sid can’t just stand by and do nothing. Not when a member of his team needs his help. 

Geno knows that, knows him, but where Sidney has the team’s back always, Geno has his, first and foremost. He’s Sid’s second—forever his partner in crime. 

Sidney smiles at him gratefully, feels something coil warm and bright in his belly. He knocks his foot against Geno’s side in thanks and resolves to talk to Derrick later. 

** 

Pooh looks tired and haggard when he asks if it’s cool for Kirsten to stay with them in the apartment. “Just for a week or two? Until I…until I figure out what to do.” 

“Of course!” Scotty bursts out. He turns to look at his roommates. “Right? It’s fine! This is fine.” 

It’s probably not fine. They’re already six people living in the flat, sometimes seven, when Sunny gets called up. It’s a tight fit with just the guys. 

Kirsten is awesome though, and Pooh is obviously out of options. He’s in a tough spot with his parents, fighting constantly about having knocked up his girlfriend, and Pooh told them Kirsten’s had not only cut her off, but kicked her out as well.

It makes Scotty so sad to think about. 

Muzz nods. “We’ll make it work,” he says simply. 

“You can have my room. It’s the biggest,” Rusty speaks up. 

Pooh breathes out heavily, his shoulders visibly sagging in relief. He walks over to Rusty and throws his arms around him. “Thank you,” he whispers into his neck, and Rusty murmurs back a “You’re welcome,” as he pets Pooh’s head. 

Conor makes a strangled noise of protest, and Scotty bursts out laughing at the indignant look on his face. Conor has been trying for ages to make Rusty switch rooms with him—“It has a better view!”—and while Rusty has a soft spot for Conor a mile wide, he's remained largely unmoved. 

“But _I_ wanted that room,” Conor complains. His bottom lip juts out into a ridiculous pout, so exaggerated they all know he’s only joking, but Junior still flicks his ear gently. 

“What have I told you?” he asks, only a faint trace of his German accent lingering. “Don’t stick your lip out unless you’re ready for someone to bite it.” 

The guys groan as Conor blushes a furious red, and even Pooh rolls his eyes from where he is clinging to Rusty’s middle. 

Conor is with Jordan, and Scotty has heard him say he is going to marry her one day so many times they may as well already be engaged, but they sometimes flirt outrageously with Junior, and Junior always, _always_ flirts back. 

Scotty isn’t entirely sure what their deal is, but he, Pooh, and Rusty have resolved not to be around when they do figure it out. It’s a small apartment. They’ve overheard Conor and Jordan enough times to know the two of them are plenty loud on their own. Junior will probably only add to the noise. 

“Get a room,” Pooh tells them, smirking, and for a moment, he looks completely worry free. 

Scotty smiles and joins in on the teasing. 

** 

Junior is actually the longest-tenured Penguin out of all of them, but Conor, as fond as he is of Junior, sometimes feels as though it really started with Rusty and himself—even if the three of them are the same age. Maybe because Junior was out with injuries for a while there and it was just Conor and Rusty in Wilkes-Barre before Muzz and Pooh came along, and Scotty too. 

Conor loves all of his Wilkes-Barre teammates, Tishy too, but there is something special about the six of them. They’re a tight-knit group, been living out of each other’s pockets for nearly three years now. 

Jordan and Junior call it found family, and while his girlfriend and his—actually, Conor isn't entirely sure what Junior is to him—read a lot of chick lit, Conor can’t help but agree. 

They’re ice warriors; brothers in arms. 

What happens to one of them happens to all. They’re a little like the three musketeers, Conor thinks. Only there are six of them, and six people are obviously better than three. Double the support and all. 

Conor is pretty sure his math holds up. 

He’s a little offended then, when Pooh accuses him of betraying his trust and going behind his back once he finds out Conor told Sid— 

“You didn’t even ask before you went to him!” 

—which, okay, yes. Conor definitely should have, and it was a shitty thing to do, but Pooh was obviously not going to do it, and they need help. Conor had called Sid before Kirsten ever moved in with them, and even then it’d been obvious they needed help. 

That’s only become more apparent the longer she stays with them. They can’t keep going like this. There’s no room. None of them have any clue on where to go from here. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I should have asked if it was okay, but come on, man.” He looks at Pooh from over the top of his glasses, watching him pace back and forth across the living room floor. “I love Kirsten, you know I do. All of us do, man, but let’s be real. We have to be honest here. She’s going to need a doctor, medicine, maternity clothes…” Conor shrugs helplessly. “That shit’s expensive.” 

“Fuck!” Pooh curses. “I know! I know!” He stops in place, breathing in heavy pants. He runs a hand through his hair shakily, and Conor pretends not to see the way his eyes have gone wet, fluid building like a film before his irises. “I don’t wanna be a dad, man,” he whispers. 

Conor thinks that may be the first time he’s said those words aloud. 

The guys have all been so careful to talk around it, to not ask what they plan to do with the baby and support them what they can. 

But there’s being supportive and there’s being stupid. 

Conor knows they’re all treading water even if no one else wants to admit that. 

Pooh goes back to pacing, and Conor says nothing. 

** 

Sidney isn’t terribly surprised to see Scotty and Junior tagging along when Derrick arrives at Sidney’s house. He’d only invited Derrick over to talk, but where there is one WBS guy there is usually another. Sidney doesn’t mind. It just shows how close they are. It reminds him of himself and Geno, and Tanger, Flower, Jordy—back when they were the ones who’d been all brand new to the League. 

He is surprised Conor isn’t there though. Or Rusty. 

“They’re with Kirsten,” Derrick admits sheepishly. “She’s been crashing at our apartment for about a week now.” 

“You could have brought her,” Sidney says mildly, and has to hold back a frown at the way Scotty and Junior shift in their seats and Derrick won’t quite meet his eyes. “Pooh?” 

“We didn’t—I didn’t know how you’d react. I didn’t want to upset her in case, you know…” 

“In case I reacted badly? Jesus, guys, do you really think so lowly of me?” 

Sidney can’t help but feel a little insulted, a little hurt. He thought they knew him better by now. It must show on his face, because Scotty and Junior burst into chatter, talking over each other in their rush to deny it, and Derrick is shaking his head vehemently. 

“No! Of course not! It’s just, Kirsten’s parents, my parents—” Derrick breaks off, looking young and lost and exhausted. Sidney feels for him. “Mostly people have been angry when we’ve told them.” 

Sidney sighs. He can’t say it surprises him. His own gut reaction had been a shot of disappointment and no small amount of exasperation. But Pooh is his friend, he’s team, and Sidney wants to do his part. To help them get a handle on this thing before it spirals out of control. 

“Your apartment is not a long-term solution. It must already be pretty cramped with all of you there, and it will only get smaller with a baby.” Sidney offers Derrick a tentative smile. “Why doesn't Kirsten come live with me? You too, if you want, Pooh. It’s not like I don’t have the space for it.”

It’s not an impulsive decision, far from it. Sidney thought about it for days first, and then talked it over with Geno, trusting him to be the voice of reason whenever Sidney is being too ridiculous—because despite his questionable love of distressed denim, fast cars, and dangerous animals, Geno is often the more reasonable of the two. 

Sid is the one who sometimes goes a bit overboard. 

Not this time, though. Nothing ridiculous about this.   

“I—you—what?” 

The boys stare at him, eyes wide, and Derrick gapes.

“You’d do that? You’d let us stay?” 

Sidney nods. “Of course. For as long as you need.” 

“I—” Derrick looks from Sidney to the guys on the couch. Scotty offers him a small grin and two thumbs up. 

Sidney shakes his head fondly. 

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll have to talk to Kirsten, but yes, definitely. Yes, thank you,” Derrick babbles, and there’s something in his tone, something strained and small and so very raw. He’s nodding his head vigorously, looking a little hysterical, a little wild around the eyes.

Sidney aches for him.

He crosses the room and wraps his arms around Derrick, lifting a hand to rest at the back of his nape, holding him gently. 

Derrick’s breath hitches at the touch. He clutches at the back of Sidney’s t-shirt, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. 

Sidney wonders if this is the first time Derrick has let himself cry since he found out about the pregnancy. 

“It’s okay,” Sidney whispers against his temple. “It’s okay. You’re not alone.” 

“Thank you,” Derrick keeps saying, over and over again, and as Sidney keeps holding him, looking at Scotty and Junior over Derrick’s shoulder, they smile at him sadly. 

** 

Scotty keeps asking if it’s weird, living with Sid, and almost five months into their stay Derrick can honestly say yes. So very, very weird. 

It’s not that Sid treats them poorly. He’s a good host, a good roommate, and Derrick stopped feeling like a guest in a stranger’s house about two weeks in. But it’s. It’s just odd. Different. Derrick never really manages to feel at home. And he misses the guys. 

He’s not the only one who feels off. Kirsten does too. 

She’s eight months pregnant now, hasn’t spoken to her parents since they first kicked her out, and is more than ready for it all to be done and said. 

It’s been six months of discussions, the two of them going back and forth, trying to decide what they’re going to do with the baby. Derrick has never felt so lost in all his life. He thought that as Kirsten grew bigger, as he got accustomed to the idea of the baby, he would know what to do, what he’d want, but he mostly just feels bad. 

(Because what the truth is, what he really wants, is to not be a dad, and he can’t change that no matter how bad he feels.) 

At least he’s got hockey to distract him, the playoffs, working out furiously just in case he has to step in, to take someone’s place on the blueline. 

Kirsten doesn’t even have that. There’s no distraction for her. Nothing but time, and the baby, growing inside of her. 

“I’m so tired,” she says one day, and next to her, Derrick nods. He is too. 

They’re looking at colour swatches for the walls, sitting on the floor of the room Sidney has graciously offered up as a nursery—“Just to be safe,” he’d said. Just in case they decided to keep the baby. 

Sidney, out of all of them, is the only one who seems to be knowing what he’s doing. Who is excited for the baby. He accompanies them to doctor’s appointments, reads up on all kinds of baby books, makes sure that Kirsten takes all of her vitamins. 

He’d even tentatively provided a list of names. “They’re just suggestions, obviously. Maybe something to look at?” 

Kirsten never looks at the list. Neither does Derrick. He thinks they both made their choice then. 

Thinks that’s why they give the swatches back to Sid, undecided, and ask him to pick the colour instead. 

** 

“Can we borrow your car?” Kirsten asks one day, “we have a doctor’s appointment,” and Scotty almost trips over his crutches in his haste to get his keys. The crutches are a menace, and he’s gotten to the point where he only uses them sometimes now. 

Kirsten laughs at him, asking if he wants to tag along, while Pooh shakes his head at him. “Usually Sid takes us,” he explains, “but he has an interview he couldn’t reschedule.” 

“I don’t mind!” Scotty says as he hands Pooh the keys. Rusty’s been driving him wherever he needs since he went down with the injury, but Pooh’s not a bad driver either. “Do I get to see the baby?” 

He does. He stares gleefully at where Kirsten’s doctor is pointing at the screen. 

“There. You see? That’s the baby.” 

“That’s so cool,” Scotty breathes out, but he seems to be the only one excited. He looks at Kirsten and Pooh, at the way Kirsten is tearing up and Pooh won’t meet his eyes. 

 _What’s wrong?_ he wants to ask, but the doctor is clearing her throat, considering them all seriously. 

“I think we have some matters to discuss; I believe you asked to talk to a counselor. She’ll be here soon, if your friend would excuse himself.” 

Scotty’s brows go up, tense and confused suddenly, and it’s Pooh who explains, looking miserable as he says, “We’re gonna discuss the baby. About what we’re going to do. After. When—” 

 _When the baby’s born_ , Pooh doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. 

Scotty’s mouth moves soundlessly. He offers them a weak smile. “I’ll just be outside then.” He hobbles out of the room as quickly as he can, gently closing the door behind him and leaving them to it.   

** 

“Adoption.” 

Derrick’s voice doesn’t sound sad exactly, but there’s none of the relief Conor was expecting to hear either. He nods. “Have you contacted an agency?” he asks before Rusty can burst out with, “Are you sure?” 

Conor thinks they must be. Giving up a baby is not the kind of decision one makes lightly. He knows Kirsten and Derrick have been talking about it seriously for a while now. 

“Yeah,” Derrick says tiredly, and Rusty closes his mouth. Instead he leans over Conor and grabs for Derrick’s arm, tugging and manhandling him until he’s seated between them on the couch, throwing an arm around him and tugging him in close. 

Conor lists sideways into them, until the three of them are cuddling together, Rusty and Conor offering Derrick what comfort they can give. They sit there until Muzz and Junior and Scotty comes home, Junior making enough noise to raise the dead. They’re all laughing, but stop short when they step into the living room and see the three of them on the couch. 

“Everything okay?” Muzz asks gently, and relaxes minutely when Conor gives him a subtle nod. 

Scotty hobbles over, navigating easier in his boot now that he doesn’t depend on his crutches anymore. He looks at them all for a moment. 

“So…is there room for the rest of us?” 

** 

It’s Kirsten who tells him, bringing it up over dinner, hesitant, as though she’s scared how Sid will react. 

She’s clutching Derrick’s hand. 

“We…we finally decided. What to do with the baby,” she says, and Sidney freezes mid-step, feeling as if he’s been sucker punched. 

He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, halfway to the table. He's holding a steaming bowl of pasta because it’s Kirsten’s latest craving and Sid has nowhere near Geno’s level of skill in the kitchen, but he can boil pasta just fine. 

“You did?” Sid has known for a while now that they were probably not going to keep the baby. With each day moving closer to Kirsten’s due date, they’ve talked less and less about the baby, until Sid feels awkward even just talking about the pregnancy. 

He’s been bracing himself, because he’s invested now, was right from the start, but he still feels blindsided. As if he’s not prepared enough. 

“We’ve decided on adoption.” 

“Adoption?” 

Derrick clears his throat. He shares a look with Kirsten and shifts in his seat awkwardly. “We thought—” He shares another look with Kirsten. “If you’d be interested, maybe, we thought you’d like to adopt the baby?” 

Sidney is hit with such a fierce rush of blinding want he physically stumbles from it. For a long time, he's denied his desire for a family—for kids, a partner to live his life with.

No more. 

Derrick had said, "—we thought you'd like to adopt the baby?" and yes, Sidney would like that.

He would like that very much. 

** 

Scotty can’t help but think it’s a little weird that Sid is adopting Pooh and Kirsten’s baby, but no one can deny that all three aren’t happy about it. 

Especially Sid, who can’t seem to stop smiling, but Pooh and Kirsten too. It’s been some time since Scotty has seen them so relaxed. 

“You’re sure, though?” he asks quietly when he gets a moment alone with Pooh. He has to make sure he’s ok, that he’s doing the right thing. Can't help but worry that he'll regret giving up the baby later, even if it is the right thing to do now.

Pooh smiles at him. It’s a little bittersweet, maybe, but happy—there’s no trace of regret on his face. “I’m sure, Scotty. We both are.” 

And, well. Scotty can’t ask for more than that. 

** 

They have to sign all kinds of forms and documents, even have to inform the team and the Commissioner in the end, just to cover all legalities, but the adoption is valid and legal by the time they win the Cup and before Kirsten goes into labour. 

Once the baby is born Sid will be its legal father and Derrick and Kirsten will have signed away all their rights. 

It wasn’t an easy decision, but it’s the right one, for the baby, and for them. 

At least they know Sid. They know the baby will be loved and well taken care of. Sid has even offered to let them be in the baby’s life if they want. 

Derrick isn’t entirely sure if that’s something he wants yet but he thinks he might. It’s easier to be excited about the baby now that he knows it will go to a good home, where it will be loved and wanted, always. 

Kirsten plans to stay in touch as long as Sid permits it. She’s happier than Derrick has seen her in a long time. 

“I can go back to school, Derrick,” she says, and actually looks excited, as if she’s been given a second chance. “I get to be a kid, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Derrick says. She gets to be a kid, and he does too. 

He’s spent months feeling guilty and ashamed, because he’s known all along that he wasn’t ready, but today the guilt feels not so bad. The shame just a little bit less. 

With time, it may even go away entirely. They’ve done the right thing. He’s absolutely sure of that. 

It means he gets to have his life, and his future too. Derrick thinks he shouldn’t have to feel ashamed about that. 

** 

Conor supposes they’re lucky Kirsten’s water didn’t break during the parade. Small wonders and all that. 

It still feels typical when it does happen though, in their apartment, where only Conor and Kirsten are because Pooh and the others are out grocery shopping and Sid is off on some PR photo-op with the Cup and Geno. 

Conor spends about five minutes freaking the fuck out before Kirsten calmly tells him to get it together and call the hospital, Derrick, and Sid, and then get them a cab. Conor nods. He’s not the best guy in a crisis, but he follows directions very well. 

Sid and Pooh meet them at the hospital, and Conor is perfectly happy to let them take over hand-holding duty, collapsing into a chair in the waiting room when Sid and Pooh disappear into the private room they've given Kirsten. 

Man, but Kirsten is freakishly strong. 

“I think that’s all pregnant women,” Muzz says sagely when he and the rest of the guys arrive—Kirsten has been at the hospital for hours already, but Conor was under strict orders to tell the guys not to come until she was fully dilated. 

Conor rolls his eyes. Muzz is such a weirdo. 

“How long has it been?” Scotty asks anxiously. He’s never done well with doctors and hospitals, Conor knows. It makes him nervous. 

“Hours,” Conor says, eyes tracking Junior as he paces up and down the hall; it’s what he always does when he feels out of control. “Three hours maybe? Four at most.” 

Scotty nods. He sighs, leaning back in his chair as he stretches his bad leg out in front of him. “Are they really just gonna give the baby to Sid? Just like that? Pooh says he’s cool with it, but—” He makes a face, his concern palpable. “It’s weird.” 

“He’s adopting the baby, Scotty. It’s not like they’re just throwing it away.” 

“I know that!” Scotty exclaims, glaring at Muzz. “I just mean…they’re team right? Friends. How will this even work?” 

“They’re doing the right thing, Scotty,” Rusty says gently. His stutter is just barely noticeable.

Conor looks away from Junior, turning his head to meet Rusty’s eyes, nodding his head in agreement when Rusty says, "Derrick and Kirsten aren’t ready to be parents. Sid is. It might be awkward, might be strange, but we’ll help what we can, eh?” 

Yes. That’s a given. 

They’re team after all. 

**

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to theladyscribe for being such a wonderful beta and putting up with me. And also for hosting the rarepair fest!


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